


Strip, Baby, Strip

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Wincest Drabbles [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, My friend and I got sidetracked, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Rough Sam Winchester, Smut, Stripper Dean, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Tags, Where was I, how do you tag, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 02:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Essentially, this was the prompt:omfg can you imagine if like a vamp or a werewolf was in the audienceand saw it (Dean, stripping)and taunted john about itORTHEY TAUNT SAM ABOUT ITAND SAM GOES TO INVESTIGATEWHICH IS HOW SAM FINDS OUThave you thought about sam not being mad about the whole stripper thing because everyone else can only look but he's the only one who can TOUCH dean??????????





	Strip, Baby, Strip

**Author's Note:**

> So this was sitting on my docs for a while now, so when I asked my faithful friend K if I should edit before I post it or just go right ahead and post it, she told me to just get it out there already cuz its already been sitting unpublished for way too long. So essentially, if there're any typos, you can put the blame on her :D

By the third time it had happened, Dean had made his mind up. There was no way he could continue this. Scraped knees and sore jaws were one thing; bruises by men who just couldn’t come to terms with the fact that they enjoyed having their dicks up a dude’s ass and so proceeded to take it out on said dude’s ass was a completely different matter.

That wasn’t to say that Dean couldn’t take care of himself. The fact that he could - a little  _ too well  _ \- was the problem. 

So by the third time it had happened, he pulled the poster off the wall he’d been forced to stare at for the two measly minutes a guy was thrusting in him before trying to use his fists on Dean, and shoved it in the pockets of his hastily pulled up pants, gritting his teeth as he stepped over said guy’s shivering form. Not that Dean felt much regret anyway. Dude had it coming, and at least Dean stopped before he truly had a chance to start regretting things.

He didn’t have to look at the poster again to walk over to the entrance of the building it was tacked onto, but that didn’t stop him from pulling it out anyway once he stepped inside. 

Staring at it uncertainly, minutes trickled by. Just as he was deciding it was too late to do anything today, and that whatever he’d earned for the night was enough, he could always come back tomorrow… a passing woman in glimmering clothes finally seemed to take pity as she stopped in front of Dean.

“Hey kid,” she looked him up and down, glancing at the poster in his hands before gesturing to it with a flick of her chin, stuffing her hands into her thick fur coat’s pockets. “Here for the show or here for the job?”

Dean’s throat went dry. It took him a couple of tries before he eventually managed to get the words out. “Here for the job.”

She nodded appraisingly, taking the time to look him over once again, this time more thoroughly, however. Dean barely refrained from shivering.

“Yeah, you definitely seem fit for the role. Could do with a clean up and a change of clothes, obviously, but you’ll work.” And then she straightened, cocking her hips as she flashed him a wide smile, white teeth shining along with her glittery silver boots. “So, kid. You know how to pole dance?”

* * *

 

Dean did not, as a matter of fact, know how to pole dance. But true to his words, he was quick to learn, which he was seriously thankful for, because he didn’t think they even offered dancing lessons in general. Hence, there wouldn’t have been any way for him to learn, had it not been for Sheila’s sympathy. Sheila, the girl who took him in and under her wing too, alarmingly fast, whom he highly doubted was giving her actual name, was actually pretty nice, past the layers of snark - which she turned on him eventually, welcoming Dean into their fold like nothing else could have done so better - flamboyance, and seductivity which frankly got uncomfortable after a point, no matter how much Dean knew it to all be just a show.

Then again. None of them here were being genuine. 

Under Sheila’s tutelage, and his sheer diligence, he managed to get on the stage by his third night. By the end of the week, Dean became the new highlight of the club. Halfway through the second week, Dean was just starting to settle in, enjoying the increase in money, decrease in groping hands - compared to selling his entire body for touches instead of just visuals - and overall, how  _ fun  _ the entire thing was.

So of course, because Dean’s life was never merciful, by the end of the second week everything shot to hell.

* * *

 

He hated how they still treated him like a kid. Dean got to go on the occasional hunt with dad, when they were in a better populated - and  _ civilized  _ \- place, so unlike this podunk piece of shitty land, but when they were in a place like this? Dean had to stay behind, and  _ babysit.  _ As if the case they went on two weeks ago was only resolved without Sam’s help. 

But it wasn’t like Sam even wanted to hunt. Hell, he’d have been happier in a nice place like Lincoln, Nebraska where he could freely do his thing with the occasional call in from Dean or dad. But here, with dad gone for who knew how many more days and Dean… 

And Dean off doing god only knew what at night to earn them money…

Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew how much money playing pool could actually get them, and while Dean was a damn good player, he was also damn good at fighting. So there was no possible reason for him to come, jeans fraying at the knees far sooner than the rest of the material, rubbing at a jaw that wasn’t visibly bruised from any punches he should have gotten.

Until that stopped, and Dean was gone for longer times, but came back looking a lot more relaxed, and stinking a lot more heavily of beer and whiskey and anything else they sold at a bar. If Sam didn’t know better - which he only knew because of the amount of money Dean kept bringing back home - he’d have said that Dean was spending his time at a bar for the thrills instead of working.

He tried asking, and apparently his brother really was working. His brother. A bartender. 

The fact that he was a bartender wasn’t as much of a surprise as him actually holding a job, and steadily too from the looks of it, to Sam, and although it didn’t really explain the glitter he could occasionally see shining on his brother’s body Sam mentally shrugged it off with a “ _ who’d have thunk?”  _ to a mockingly scowling Dean.

Either way, when Sam noticed the article halfway through their second week in Nowheresville, Shitty state number unknown, he immediately grabbed it and started planning. If -  _ when - _ he got this done, at the most, they’d be able to start accompanying dad on his hunts instead of being left behind like unwanted weight. At the least, he’d be able to at least convince Dean to take him to wherever he’s going. As much as Sam didn’t mind the peace and quiet whatsoever, taking advantage of it to do his homework… truth was, he missed his family. 

Actually, he missed Dean. And not that he’d ever say it, but the idea of seeing his brother dealing with customers, smoothly making his way through drinks and preparing them like people did in the movies…

If the thought made Sam have to readjust his pants, then no one had to know. Even more so if he took advantage of the thoughts later on in the grand privacy a motel bathroom would provide.

So anyway. 

A werewolf. Which Sam was gonna pin down, kill, and probably have to take a selfie with its corpse to convince his dad that it really was him to kill it. Just to be sure.

* * *

He kind of forgot all about the selfie.

In his defense, the werewolf’s ramblings would have made anyone forget about photography. 

“Winchester,” The werewolf sniffed, and yeah, Sam was ready to tune out the usual spiel. He was starting to get the gist of his dad being a whole legend in the hunting world enough to the point that he could probably recite what the werewolf would say next. But all thoughts of getting free from where the werewolf was pinning  _ him  _ instead vanished when the werewolf took a route that, never in a million years would Sam have imagined it taking. “The little one, aren’t you.” The werewolf sniffed again. “I have to admit, you don’t smell as good as your brother… but I’m willing to bet you’d put on just as good of a show if I gave you enough too.” The werewolf chuckled, drawing a fingernail down Sam’s side, and darn it, while he knew enough to put on a shirt he didn’t care particularly too much for, tears were a whole other matter. “That being said, your brother still has the sweetest, perkiest little ass. How much do you think I gotta shove down his skimpy little thong to convince him to get back down on his knees for me?”

And okay, wait, what.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Random,  _ pervy _ , werewolf crooned, his fingernail starting to circle the side of Sam’s jeans. “Your big brother? Puts on quite the show every night. He sure knows how to be a tease, doesn’t he, waving that little ass in our faces. I’d bet he looks even better without that thong, but the glitter is a little too much.” It lifted his hand to gesture at its nose. “Makes you all sneezy, you know?” And despite the absolute shock and disbelief warring through his system, his body jumped into automatic. With the werewolf sufficiently distracted and holding Sam with one arm, it left him free to reach down and pull out his dagger from where it had been only inches away from the werewolf’s probing finger. With all his strength, he pushed the dagger into the werewolf’s heart before it could realize what was going on, and eyes widening with surprise, it staggered back, finally letting go of Sam.

Falling to his feet, he nimbly stood back up quickly, eyes trained on the werewolf as it succumbed to death. The moment it did though, it was all Sam could do to pull out the dagger, wipe it on his jacket, before he made his way back to the motel, hot wiring a different car this time.

The werewolf’s words kept playing in his head, as if on repeat, the entire time. 

‘ _ Puts on a show every night waving that little ass in our face better without that thong puts on a show every night wavingthatlittleassinourfacebetterwithoutthatthongputsonashoweverynighteverynightwavingthatlittleasswithoutthatthongthongshoweverynight’ _

The slamming of their motel room door behind him brought him out of his reverie, and his eyes immediately landed on Dean. Swiftly, anger coursed through him, and he was already stomping over to his brother, ready to demand an explanation, when he stopped, the sight in front of him finally registering properly.

Sleeping under his blanket, Dean was facing the door, only his head visible, and from what Sam could see, a hand under the pillow, obviously holding a weapon. Yet for all the ruckus Sam must have to announce his presence, Dean didn’t wake up at all, his breathing steady and deep. 

With a flash of concern, Sam stuck out a hand, changing course at the last minute to tug the blanket slightly instead. He only had to pull back far enough to reveal Dean’s bare shoulders before he was swallowing, freezing as he desperately held back the urge to stroke his brother’s skin. When it finally passed, too long of a moment later, he tucked the blanket back around Dean’s chin, fervently ignoring the slight feel of his brother’s skin as Sam’s fingers accidentally brushed Dean.

Pulling his hand back, Sam paused at the sight of the glitter on his fingertips. His jaw tightened.

When he dreamt of glitter and thongs that night, his jaw still remained clenched, not loosening once even as he came all over his chest and under the covers, Dean’s breathing as heavy as usual in their dark room.

* * *

 

The next morning, Sam couldn’t even look Dean in the eye. It was a Sunday, and because of the hunt last night meant he’d finished all his homework by Friday night, he still ended up reading his textbook for a second time, lying through his teeth about extra credit to his brother.

Dean casually shrugged and went back to eating his pizza, never bothering to question Sam when it involved him and homework.

Sam simultaneously appreciated and hated his brother’s easy going demeanor not bothering to put a spotlight on Sam then.

But when Dean started getting ready for his ‘nightshift,’ Sam snapped to attention. His eyes were still zeroed in on a word he hadn’t absorbed despite staring at it for the past several minutes, but his ears were straining as they tracked Dean’s movement throughout the room.

“Alright, Sammy. I’m heading out. Remember, don’t open the doors, make sure--”

“--The salt lines are in place, and if anyone still comes barging in, shoot first, ask questions later.” Sam recited the rest, unable to stop the small smirk at Dean’s scoff.

“Smartass.” But Dean was just as quickly grinning anyway, coming over to ruffle Sam’s hair. He ducked away with a protesting yelp, heat rising within his guts so fast Sam was certain that he was gonna end up as a melted pool of Spam Winchester on their grimy motel room floor. “Stay safe, Sammy.” With one last pat on Sam’s head that he may have actually leaned into, not that Sam would ever admit it, Dean exited the motel room.

And with that, Sam jumped into action. 

He was already dressed and prepared for this, so really, the only thing Sam ended up backtracking for was a silver knife, tucking it into the back of his waistband, before he was pulling open the motel room door. He watched as Dean rounded the corner and disappeared from view before he exited the room, softly closing the door behind him before he crept forward. 

The entire time, Sam made sure he was far enough behind so that there was no possible way for Dean to realize he was being followed, which was a lot harder than it sounded. Being a son of John Winchester, however, meant that you knew when you were being followed just as much as you know how to follow someone without them finding out. 

Sam still made sure to keep an extra few steps between Dean and himself, just in case.

Yet, no matter how much the werewolf’s words were still ringing in the background of his mind throughout the entirety of following Dean, Sam didn’t think he’d have ever been prepared to watch his brother walk through the Employees’ Only of a strip club. But surely, bartenders used the same entrance… right?

He was still unsure as he took the main entrance, his uncertainty of the situation making him almost miss the big ass poster displayed in the center of the hall. Almost.

When his eyes properly landed on it, Sam did a double take. And then a triple take. And then he swallowed. 

There was no way he could still convince himself his brother was working as a bartender, not after this. Because in front of him, in large, capital letters, were the words, ‘ _ THE HUNTER - TONIGHT!’  _ right above a picture of a guy in traditional military uniform, his back to the picture but his head tilted so that despite looking over his shoulder, his face was shrouded in the shadow of a rifle propped on said shoulder, only his glimmering green eyes properly visible. 

There was no possible way that Sam  _ couldn’t _ recognize a picture of his own brother.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but as people started to pour in through the entrance close to the time of obviously the next show -  _ his brother’s show  _ \- someone’s shoulder knocking into his jostled Sam into action, and he managed to kickstart his system enough to numbly follow the group along as they walked beyond the poster and through a door, leading them to a wide open space with a stage at the front.

As people took their spots in front of the stage, Sam still blindly following, he kept his eyes on the center of the stage as a woman came up, walking up to the sole mic with a large grin on her face, her teeth as white as the fur coat she bore.

“Good evening, boys.” She practically sang the words out. If possible, her grin grew wider as the audience cheered, and it took a solid minute before the sound died down enough for her to resume speaking. Sam blinked, his eyes still trying to adjust to all the shimmering glitter. “Well, seeing as my boy’s all ready for you guys, I don’t really see any reason to keep you waiting, should I?” At the sound of all the men yelling “no’s”, she straightened, looking positively smug. “That’s what I thought. Alright then. Keep your wallets at the ready, ‘cause our boy doesn’t want just one little happy bulge in your pockets,” She winked, pulling the mic up with her as she started walking backwards off the stage, getting closer to the curtains at her back. “And without further ado, the Hunter!” She practically roared, a hand whipping the curtains away from her as she gracefully bowed down and disappeared into the darkness.

Instantly, all the lights in the room shut off, throwing them into darkness. Alert for what felt like the first time in hours, Sam straightened, his hand flying to his knife as his eyes strained. Everyone around him were silent, however, only the sounds of their breathing filled the room. Just as Sam was about to whip out his knife out of sheer alarm, ready to be prepared rather than sorry if this really was a spell, a spotlight turned on, aimed right at the center of the stage.

Right where Dean was crouched.

* * *

 

The moment the spotlight came on, Dean was ready. For all the pre-performance nerves he never would have expected to experience, once the lights were on, and the music started playing? The entire world slipped away, until it was just Dean, his stage, the lights, and music. With the latter two guiding him, Dean slipped into position.

_ This is not the way into my heart _

_ Into my head _

_ Into my brain  _

_ Into none of the above _

His hands sliding tantalizingly up his body, he clenched his hair, bending almost into himself as he took a few staggering steps back, almost as if in pain.

_ This is just the way of unleashing _

_ The feelings deep inside of me _

_ This spark of black that I seem to love _

Suddenly straightening, he took a few running steps forward, back at the center of the stage, before he was falling to his knees, sliding all the way to the edge, dangerously close to falling off, but it didn’t matter, not to him or anyone, as he ripped off his shirt, exposing his bare chest, and throwing off the remnants of his army shirt to the sides, letting it hang from his waist as it was held by only a few threads.

The crowd exploded. 

Absently grinning, he ran a hand up his chest, tweaking a nipple.

_ We can get a little crazy just for fun _

_ Just for fun _

His other hand’s fingers crawled down his abs, a finger dancing down the hard lines before tugging at his happy trail, purposefully left trimmed. Slowly, he pushed his waistband just a little further down, smirking as the crowd went crazy. But he stopped just shy of the base of his cock, eyes glinting at the crowd when they booed in disappointment. For the first time that night, he let his eyes roam over the crowd, not really paying attention to who was watching him. 

_ Don’t even try to hold it back _

_ Just let go _

_ Tie me up and take me over  _

_ Till you’re done  _

_ Till I’m done _

He started to get to his feet, both his hands trailing his waist before he grabbed his ripped sleeves, twisting it around his wrists as he pulled his arms above his head and stared straight at the crowd --

_ You’ve got me fiendin _

_ And I’m ready to blow _

And right into the hazel eyes of his brother.

For the briefest of seconds, Dean froze. The music kept pounding, but it faded away, as Dean stared at his little brother in front of his stage, watching with lust blown eyes as Sammy’s eyes trailed up and down Dean’s naked torso. As his eyes roamed higher, to where Dean’s hands were still above his head, Sam’s tongue peeked out, licking his bottom lip.

The music was already pushing Dean into his next move, but as his hips rose, Dean found himself purposefully staring at Sam, thoughts of  _ wrongnodirtybrotherstop _ vanishing as the lyrics took over, leading Dean into gyrating his hips, his throat going dry and swallowing so heavily that everyone in the audience could see it as Sam’s eyes snapped to his cock. 

He didn’t think he’d ever been more aroused.

_ Push up to my body  _

_ Sink your teeth into my flesh _

Dean snarled, biting the air as he thrusted, once, twice, his arms abruptly snapping straight before ripping free of the sleeves.

_ Get undressed _

Reaching down, he grabbed the sides of his pants, and pulled.

_ Taste the flesh _

The room erupted with noise as Dean stood there, clad only in dark green panties, black lace over the fabric making it match the rest of his military uniform now in tatters around him on the floor. 

Breathing hard, Dean danced.

* * *

 

Sam was breathing heavily. His chest was heaving, his shirt was plastered to his back, and his pants were straining. If someone handed him a mirror, he was sure his pupils would be completely dilated as well. 

Not that he would be able to tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. 

Watching Dean dance… It was mesmerizing. His brother danced like he fought, sharp angles and thrusts, jabs at the air molding into graceful curves as Dean bent and twisted his body around the stage, hands leading him through each move coinciding too perfectly with the lyrics. 

And the panties that Dean kept teasing the edges of, but never removing… 

Sam growled, the grip on his knife tightening, the only thing grounding him enough to hold him back from actually jumping his brother on stage.

_ Hold me up against the wall _

_ Give it till I beg _

Dean leaning against the curtains as he silently begged, hips never stopping their movements as he clawed at the curtains, head whipping from side to side.

_ Hold my hands above my head _

_ And push my face into the bed _

_ ‘Cause I’m a screamer baby _

_ Make me a mute _

His brother, getting on his knees on the floor, his head touching the floor and fingers gripping the edge of the stage, before he arched his back, mouth open in a silent scream.

_ You put your hand upon my neck and feel the pulse _

_ Beat beat beat beat _

Dean’s hands weakly curled back inwards, fingers tracing his veins as his hips stuttered, with each. Damn. Beat.

Sam gasped. 

The sound of it should have went unnoticed amidst all the ruckus around him, but somehow,  _ somehow,  _ Dean suddenly looked up, his eyes finding Sam immediately, his black pupils barely leaving any space for green as he panted, open mouthed in his little brother’s direction.

_ You can dominate the game _

_ ‘Cause I’m tough _

He was on his knees, mouth open in an O, one hand helplessly rubbing at his throat, the other working an imaginary cock. And the entire time, he was still directly staring at Sam.

He jumped when the feeling of his own fingers slipping and bringing the knife too close to his cock prompted him into realizing his hands were starting to wander.

_ I don’t play around that often _

_ When I do _

_ I’m a freak _

His ears rang from the audience’s screams as Dean backflipped, but all Sam could see was Dean’s back arching in slow motion, his cock jumping under the panties.

_ So you better believe _

_ I like it rough _

He dug his nails down his chest, skin immediately reddening, creating fiery trails down his torso as Dean tugged the panties just the slightest bit down, exposing a curl of hair at the base of his cock.

Sam’s vision went red.

He was barely aware of the song progressing, and only distantly registered the last few lines. 

_ Sink your teeth into my _

_ Flesh _

And the crowd stood, throwing money like confetti at Dean as they cheered, their applauding raucous. His brother stood in the midst of it all, absently beaming as he bowed, but not once did he take his eyes off of Sam.

And then the spotlight turned off, shrouding them in darkness once again.

Sam didn’t let that deter him.

* * *

 

Dean wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings. On a surface level, he registered the fact that his body led him backstage, pulling on a robe as some crew member responsible for gathering the money handed it to him. He shoved it into his pocket, for once not caring of stowing it safely, and he didn’t even bother to get dressed as he grabbed his clothes, heading out the back entrance.

And immediately slammed into his brother.

Sam pressed him against the brick, hard enough that Dean’s hands and chest stung from the force and friction of being pressed against the rough wall.

“You’re such a tease,” Sam growled, hot air blowing against Dean’s ear, making Dean shiver.

In a bout of truthfulness, the words slipped out of Dean in a mutter before he could think them through. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

Sam just growled again. Shifting, Dean closed his eyes, sending a mental prayer that Sam didn’t come any closer. The way Sammy was acting… it should have terrified him. And it did. But it was also doing things to his libido that it should not be doing… not when Dean wasn’t wearing anything to properly cover it either. “Did you know you had a werewolf in the audience?” Sam said. “That piece of shit told me a lot when I went to kill him.”

Dean gasped trying to straighten but failing under Sam’s hold. He should have been paying attention to the first part of what Sam said, but by his second sentence, he all but forgot about how he should have been more concerned about his supposed audience and what, rather than who, it contained. “What the hell were you doing on a hunt by yourself?” Dean tried to shove at Sam’s chest, a growl of his own slipping from him when Sam barely budged. He went on anyway. “Number one rule of hunting, Sammy:  _ you don’t hunt alone! _ ”

Sam, unable to hold back his anger, slammed Dean against the wall, emitting a pained grunt from Dean. “Not. The. Point.” 

And at that, Dean was unable to meet his brother’s eyes, and yet, he could still see Sam smirking from his peripherals. “What is the point, then?” Dean asked subtly trying to test Sam’s hold on his arms and back. But then Sam was roughly changing his hold on Dean so that both of Dean’s hands were in one of his, leaving his other hand free to slip through Dean’s robes. Sam’s fingers immediately went to the panties, the only piece of skimpy material protecting his brother’s cock from the rest of the world. 

“This?” Sam said, trailing his finger over the panties’ waistband. Dean gasped, eyes widening in shock as he looked up at Sam. “Or this?” And then Sam’s finger was ducking into the panties, immediately meeting Dean’s hard flesh.

“S-Sam, what the hell--” 

“Exactly, Dean.” Sam hissed, right in Dean’s ear. “What the hell.” Dean swallowed. He didn’t want to, but this–if telling Sam about their financial issues was what was going to appease Sam before he did something to Dean’s inappropriate boner, which he already knew was fucked up and shouldn’t even be present, thank you, then he would. Before Sam kicked his ass. Or possibly castrated him.

But then Sam kept talking and Dean shut his mouth. 

“You belong. To me, Dean. So tell me again, why the hell you’re doing this, letting people see you like this,” and wow, okay, there went Dean’s robe, ripped off as easily as the clothes Dean wore on set that were  _ meant to be torn _ , “When it should only be me, hm?”

The words escaped him before he even had to think about it. “‘Course it’s only you, Sammy. They might get to watch, but they won’t touch–can’t touch what’s yours.” And he was, completely and utterly Sam’s. Whatever happened before he joined the strip club – none of it counted, not to Dean, and most definitely not when he wasn’t thinking about it. 

And it must have satisfied Sam, because with a low sound, he was pushing Dean’s panties down, surpassing his aching cock to immediately grab onto Dean’s balls. Dean jumped.

“Damn right, it’s mine.” Sam said, his mouth practically pressed against Dean’s ear. “This, all of this is mine.” He stroked Dean, once, twice, and then let go. Dean let out a particularly pathetic whine that he would later never admit to having let out. “And this…”

He pushed his fingers further down, and.  _ Oh.  _

Dean mewled, pushing into the touch as Sam pressed his fingers right against Dean’s taint. 

“This is mine too.” And using only the precome from Dean’s weeping cock as lube, Sam pushed inside.

Dean grunted, breath gushing out of him as he jumped up, chest pushing against Sam’s, even as Sam pushed him harder against the wall. 

Two fingers inside him, with no other prep, and Dean was still writhing and moaning like a two dollar whore for his own brother, unable to bring himself to give the slightest of fucks. “Please, more, Sammy,” Honestly, Dean wasn’t even coherent enough to think straight enough to comprehend what he was saying at the moment – though he did have a good idea. So rational thinking involving how fucking his brother – or his brother fucking him, whatever – was so very wrong?

Sam crooked his fingers, stretching, and hit his prostate. 

Everything went white.

* * *

 

Watching Dean unravel was breathtaking.

As his brother came all over his hands and even on Sam’s groin and chest, Sam let his head drop onto Dean’s shoulder, still fingering his brother, but moving his other hand to himself, jacking himself in firm movements. 

“S-Sammy,” Dean breathed out, and Sam was gone, adding his own come to the mess, smearing it all over Dean in return.

Those panties may have been absolutely soiled, but there was no way Sam was going to let Dean get rid of it any time soon.

Still breathing hard, he let go of himself and pulled his fingers free from Dean, lips quirking up into a smirk at the tiny whimper Dean let out at the action. Lifting his hands up, he wrapped them around Dean’s torso, uncaring of how he was only spreading their come even further up Dean’s body. 

“Mine,” Sam whispered, right into Dean’s ear.

Dean gasped.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> By the end of this fic, I have now introduced my friend to two songs, which she deemed the main dancer as someone she would not mind fucking her anytime, anywhere, in any position.   
> #A c c o m p l i s h e d


End file.
